Storybooks
by TusDein
Summary: Story is a demon. A demon shunned by society. And on one fateful day, she meets a group of men that brings too many stories back for her liking. KuramaOC


I walked through the third village that passed my way since yesterday, never stopping for even the meagre of necessities; it wasn't because I didn't need it, nor was it because I wanted to become 'human thin' as demons called it.

I am a demon. We don't need such odd fads for ourselves. I was also a creature; one which needs to feed and drink to become functional. Fortunately though, I was capable of more. I was a demon to a higher extent.

But because of this level of power, I wasn't as favoured as most in my world.

"Is that one of them?" a demon asked in the distance.

"It is," said a fellow thug.

They came over to where I walked, the people around, parting like the Red Sea in my midst; like I was some sort of thing to be feared.

You can say that was who I was; a creature of fear.

"Who do you think you are?" they began to shout, using mob psychology to get those around me against me.

"I am a storyteller," I replied, continuing to walk and never stopping for the likes of them.

By the sounds of the words, I am a cocky person, but really I was just afraid. Afraid of being shunned again by another one. To be attacked and hated for being who I had no choice to be. The character in my story which I had no power in creating.

"You ain't no storyteller! You're a witch!" they shouted, putting humour in fear.

Witches, once, were seen as evil by the most. They were burned because they heard the voices of the evil and they practiced arts that no one tried to understand. And now, many years later, demons had the audacity to call another evil. How cruel this twist of fate can be.

Three demons stood in front of me and barricaded my path with more behind them.

"Move out of the way, please," I asked of them.

"You ain't goin' nowhere without a fight, witch." Me? A witch? Hardly.

"I speak not the language of barbarians," I replied, continuing to look down under my hood.

"Shut up and fight like the monster you are!"

"My kind is a pacifist by nature. We only wish to tell you stories." They would not move. And the villagers soon became a mob.

I stepped back for every step they took closer, edging farther and farther from where I wished to go. "Let me pass, friends," she said to them, stopping at the plaza where no villager lingered.

"Friend? We aren't your friend, witch!" I sighed, ashamed at the kind I flocked myself with. These were undeserving of our stories, our good stories shan't be wasted on the feeble minded.

I pulled down my hood and faced them, my eyes blinking slowly at everyone. They gasped in shock and fear, edging further away from where I was. I chuckled maliciously, finding cowardice such a shame to those pretending to be brave.

My eyes glowed in an eerie mist, one purely white and the other gold. As my golden eye began to brighten and the white began to dim, I began my tale: "A child once lived in a village such as this, as all children once were. He, along with many, ran rampant through the streets, killing creatures that meant no harm to them.

The children, the primitive demons, were always warned by their mothers, 'never go to the forest' they said, 'or the monster would eat you like they did all the rest.' But children, being stubborn children, saw their mothers and fathers as cowards, who feared something that never existed. And because of that, the children ventured forth.

They ran through the forest, picking up the gifts of the forest and destroying the children of the earth. 'There's nothing here' on cried, mocking his foolish mother. But do you know who the fool really was? The children of course. As they turned to leave the forest, the trees began to close, trapping them inside.

They cried and cried like all lost children would, but no woodsman nor traveller could hear past the forest. As darkness fell on them, the sounds of a growl echoed through the night. The children were huddled closely, afraid of what was to come.

'Foolish children' the monster growled, edging closer to the grove. When morning came and mothers and fathers searched, they found no trace of children at all. Their village was now desolate and empty without the joyous cries of the young, and as they wept into the night, the voices of tears and gnashing would forever echo within their walls. Do you understand what the story means?"

They all shook their heads dumbly, finally realizing the power I could bring. A hollow chuckle came from my throat and I pulled my hood back to cover my eyes. "It means never challenge the things you don't understand."

The screams came quick as I watched my work fall into place. The wind blew and tossed up dust, creating red-eyed clouds of fear to come and fulfil their need. The dust creatures ran amongst and around the gathered mob, crushing them into a tight group. The creatures sped quicker and quicker and soon dispersed as they had been nourished.

The screams continued to echo within the plaza, a chaotic frenzy becoming the cause for such violence. The creatures, like bears, moved away from the town, running into the desert and disappearing into the sun.

I watched the empty space where they once were and continued to walk without remorse to the unjust. They knew who I was, meaning my kind had passed before, meaning my kind had been killed here before rather than go against their pacifist nature and use their powers to exact revenge.

I was one of those. The Storyteller Demons. We were a rare kind to everyone and known only by the eyes and how we bring ourselves. My eyes were different colours, because I was only a half-breed. Storyteller with another. The other being something I never knew.

"I warned you," I muttered, crossing the threshold of empty houses and closed shutters.

As I reached towards the end, a figure stepped to my side. "We can't let you pass," this one said, bringing back familiar memories of a love long forgotten.

"And why is that?" I asked, trying to remain a Storyteller Demon.

"You have killed more than a hundred demons and that is against Spirit World laws," another of his companions said.

"But we aren't in Spirit World," I argued, knowing well what they would say.

"Even so, you still gotta go," the human said.

"This is demon world, Spirit Detective. Laws here are different from wherever you came from. Survival of the Fittest is what is most upheld and I have proven just that. So I ask you again, Spirit Detective, will you let me pass or will I be forced to tell you a story?"

He seemed shook by the threat and so did the other human to his side, but the two demons remained unfazed, understanding what I meant.

"Hiei," the first one said, glancing at the smallest one. He readied his sword but I muttered words under my breath, making him stop his attack.

"What are you doing to me, girl?" he asked, trying to move his sword.

"There is no need for further deaths, Spirit Detectives. I will come peacefully," I said, walking closer to the black haired one.

"Alright then, lady," he said, calling in for a portal.

The humans entered first and I motioned for the other two to enter. Yet neither did what I graciously bestowed upon them. I entered through the vortex and felt my body propelled forward in time.

"I see," a man said, sitting behind his empty desk. I came closer to his table and bowed, waist up. This was the ruler after all and he had power to give judgment. "You are the Storyteller Demon then."

"That I am, my Lord." The human snorted in amusement. "They are disrespectful, are they not?"

"Unfortunately so," the man replied, "I am Koenma, Prince of the Spirit World, and my detectives have explained how you killed an entire village."

"That I did, Lord Koenma."

"Why?"

"Because they are not deserving of life. They killed the earth from whence they came. The village was once a forest yet was ruined by the disregard of the Earth Demons sworn to protect it."

"You do understand the punishment, I presume?"

"Death."

"And how would you plead?"

"Guilty." Koenma nodded gravely. He clenched a fist with both hands and faced up to the hooded girl.

"I have a proposition if you would wish to hear." I listened intently as he began to speak his chosen words. "Either you die by hanging or you help my spirit detectives."

"I choose life over death any day, but I must warn you, my Lord, that my kind was not built to fight. The stories we choose are always those that are used in more beneficial manners."

"And that is what I'd rather have." I bowed to him again and he spoke to us once more. It was quick, the events, even if I didn't write it myself. Never in my dreams did I think of becoming a Spirit Detective, but I guess it was better than being hated throughout the demon world.

"You may all go," Koenma said, opening a portal beneath everyone.

I fell to my feet and stood up slowly, dusting off my cloak. The rest of them stood around, looking at me with curious eyes like I would do tricks.

"You have a question for me?" she asked the young human.

"Yeah," he said, sheepishly, "we heard you talking earlier, like how you were discriminated and all but Koenma didn't discriminate you or anything and he knew what you were."

"You make me sound like some animal," she said to them, sitting cross-legged on the red arm chair in their living room.

"Sorry, but..." she held a hand to stop him. She understood what he had meant.

"I used to work for Koenma. Up to two years ago, when I asked to leave."

Yusuke Urameshi, team leader, gaped at her with eyes as large as saucers. "You worked here?" he echoed, turning statement into question.

"Uh-huh. No one really saw me here, maybe just a few, right Kurama?" She asked, looking at the stiff red-head.

"Lore?"

"Glad that you remember me. Though I was rather fond of never seeing you ever again." He said nothing and she got off her arm chair, pulling down the hood of her cloak. Her hair brushed over her face, covering the white eye from view.

"Where will I be staying?" she asked politely, pulling the taller black haired boy from his trance.

"Uh...just follow..." he began to say.

"Follow me," Kurama spoke up, beginning to lead the way to the rooms. Lore glared as Kurama walked off, yet followed nonetheless as he walked up stairs. There were no words between them up until they came to the room.

"This one's yours." He said, opening the door to a fully furnished room. She entered without a glance his way and walked, to look over the room. The door shut and she turned to glare at Kurama who stood there still.

"You came back to my story then," he said almost jokingly.

"I wrote you out of it a long time ago," she said, without as much as anger or hate...or rather, absent of emotion.

"But I'm still here."

"Forgive me. Let me rephrase, I wrote out anything that could ever happen between us. No love, no relationship, no nothing."

"But you can't write your own story."

"I never said I wrote it in mine." She sat down on a soft chair in the corner.

"Who's then?" he asked. Lore chuckled darkly and glanced out at the darkening sky.

"A year before I left. You said you loved me. You said you didn't care what I was. Then I told you what I was and then love turned to fear. Then it turned to hate. Then it turned to disregard, which led to broken ties. You were always a liar Kurama."

"That doesn't answer my question," he argued, crossing his arms.

Lore stared hard at the half-fox demon, her hair pulled away from the white eye, so that even that could pierce into his soul. Kurama shivered under her cold stare, a malicious, happy glint coming from it. She was grinning at him and he was afraid, like how he was afraid back when he found out she was a Storyteller Demon.

And then her mouth moved and he feared for the worst. His heart began to beat loudly and he thought of screaming.

But as she said those words, his fear and depression began to break. With their final chapter coming to a close, she said the words that would seal it forever.

"I wrote it in yours.


End file.
